


Always Remember

by scarlettjabner



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Baby Harry Potter, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Fluffy Hagrid and Harry, Pre-Hogwarts, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 03:59:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13115544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarlettjabner/pseuds/scarlettjabner
Summary: A part of Hagrid hadn't known what to expect when he'd stepped into the Potter's home that fateful night.(Another part of him knew exactly what he'd find.)Still, after seeing the corpses of two of the greatest people he'd ever met, he hadn't expected to find their baby boy alive and well in the arms of his godfather. Nor was he prepared to have said baby thrust into his arms to be taken care of for an entire day whilst others found him a new home.There were a lot of things Hagrid hadn't expected that day, but short of going back in time to give Harry the family he deserved, he wouldn't change a thing.





	Always Remember

**Author's Note:**

> Merry (early) Christmas!!! 
> 
> (If anyone's wondering what they want to get me for Christmas, some reviews would be nice :D )

His mark was still hanging in the air over the house—large, sickly and foreboding—by the time Hagrid arrived at Godric’s Hollow. 

He was a strong man, Hagrid, and he wasn't afraid to admit that he'd nearly burst into tears at the sight of the Dark Mark staining Lily and James’s home, their family’s memory, doing nothing to hide the gaping hole in the roof of the nursery. The front door had been smashed inwards, shards littered every surface of the hallway except one particular spot—the one taken up by James Potter's still warm corpse.

James was lying on his side, body sprawled over the first few steps leading to the second floor. His glasses had fallen from his face at some point during the struggle and laid broken off to the side of his cut and bloody cheek. 

Hagrid did nothing to hold back the tears this time and they stuck to his beard like rain on a spiderweb, creating little drops of reflecting light, each showing an image of James lying on the floor, eyes wide open and unseeing. Hagrid knelt down on his knees and placed a trembling hand on the young man's head, swiping it gently down his face to close his eyes. 

He thought of moving the body, placing him off to the side where no one would disturb him, maybe even cover him with a sheet to preserve James’ memory as the kind, bright young man that he was and not this empty shell of what he had once been. Hagrid couldn't bare to leave James like he was, exposed and vulnerable in the sanctity of death. He went in search of a blanket, a towel, anything to cover him with, and found a knitted blanket hanging over the back of half a scorched couch. 

He wasn't a big believer in any type of religion, but as he put a great man to rest, Hagrid prayed that the real James Potter, his spirit or soul or essence, had found its way to his wife and was now at peace. 

The upstairs looked as pristine as could be. 

It made Hagrid uneasy. It was surreal. There should have been broken glass on the ground, a fallen sconce, cracked portraits hanging crooked on the wall, maybe even the remains of a door caved in from an enormous explosion—some sign of a fight. Proof that it hadn’t been easy; that taking the lives of an innocent family had visible repercussions beyond the imaginable. 

The door to the nursery stood wide open. Hagrid had to duck down to make it through. He had braced himself to find more death plaguing the Potter home, so nearly stumbling across Lily's body resting amongst the remains of a decimated crib had bile rising up his throat, but didn't break him. Hagrid left that task for baby Harry. 

A noise from a dark corner of the room startled Hagrid. He raised his umbrella and pointed it at the spot where he could make out the outline of something barely moving. 

“Who's there? Show yerself.”

The noise became louder and Hagrid could make out crying interspersed with sobbed out words. 

“S—sorry, so sorry. Promised him—promised them…  James and Li—Lily… Harry… Pup… I didn't—so sorry… My fault, all my fault…”

Hagrid stilled and lit the end of his umbrella, the white light letting him make out Sirius Black, rocking back and forth against a corner as he held something wrapped in a blanket close to his chest. Hagrid spotted the little snitches sewn onto the fabric and immediately felt the contents of his stomach rise up his esophagus and threaten to desecrate the Potter’s home even further. 

Dumbledore had been wrong after all. Hagrid knew it would have been too good and tragic to be true.

“Bl—Sirius, ain’t nothin’ ye can do fer the boy, now,” said Hagrid, dropping down on bent knee in an attempt to catch the man’s eye. “We’ll put ‘im to rest, with his family. Tha’s the best we can—”

The cry of a baby cut through whatever platitude Hagrid had been about to offer. Sirius shifted, loosening his grip on the bundle of fabric and pulled back a corner to reveal a red-faced, tear-ridden Harry Potter, little hand waving around wildly as his eyes scrunched shut and his cries echoed in the room. 

“He’s okay,” said Sirius, voice catching as he began to gently rock the baby from side to side in his arms. “I—I found him like this, with that scar. In his crib. Lily, she,” —he sobbed— “she was reaching out to him, even in death, and James… James died protecting them, protecting his family, just like she did—and they did it. Harry’s okay. My godson’s alive.” 

Hagrid’s breath whooshed out of him all at once. His legs felt like jelly as he stood up and reached down to help Sirius to his feet, essentially carrying the man outside the house when he couldn’t stand up on his own and refused to look anywhere but at Harry. 

“Sirius. Sirius, listen to me,” Hagrid urged him, waiting until the man lifted red-rimmed eyes to clash with his own. “We gotta get Harry outta here, I don’ know how much time we have ‘til Death Eaters start crawlin’ all over the place.” 

“I’ll take him somewhere safe. No one will know where, he’ll be safe with me,” Sirius’ arms shifted subtly as Harry began to fuss once more. Unbidden, shushing noises began to make their way out of his lips and Sirius almost broke down again right then and there as a memory of James doing the same thing to calm his son came to his mind’s eye. 

“They were s’pposed ter be safe here, too,” said Hagrid. “Professor Dumbledore’ll know what to do, we’ll take him to ‘im. S’why I’m here, to make sure...”

“They  _ were _ safe!” Sirius insisted. “This was  _ his  _ idea, Dumbledore promised they’d be alright, that the Fidelius would…” Sirius got a far-away look in his eyes, his hands suddenly slackened in their grip on the baby and Hagrid was on the verge of taking Harry himself when the other man came to. 

“They  _ were  _ safe,” he repeated. “They were safe because we wanted them to be, but it only takes one man—oh Merlin, Peter!” 

Sirius had turned frantic in a matter of seconds, spinning back and forth in the same place while he kept mumbling to himself about torture, charms and  _ Peter, oh Merlin, Peter. _

An explosion sounded in the distance and drowned out Sirius’ desperate mutterings. They both turned around at the noise and immediately stiffened when flashes of coloured lights lit up the backdrop of the neighbourhood and a cacophony of screams soon followed.

“They’re here,” said Sirius. “Hagrid! Take him. Take him far away and keep him safe. Protect him until I come back,” he thrust Harry into Hagrid’s arms and whipped out his wand. 

“Where you goin’? Sirius!”

Sirius had already leaped five steps ahead, rushing towards the battle of spells raging at the end of the street. 

“I have to check! He might still be alive, Hagrid!” he shouted back, not making any sense to Hagrid as he kept jogging up the street. “Take my bike! Keep Harry safe until I come get him, you hear me?” 

If Sirius said something else, Hagrid didn’t know, the man was too far away for Hagrid to be able to hear anything and the litany of destruction that had previously been a mere background murmur had closed in on them to become a deafening racket.

The first sight of a darkened cloak turning a corner down the street had Hagrid rushing to Sirius’ bike, carelessly parked on the lawn. He jumped on the large motorbike, but was brought up short when he realized he wouldn’t be able to drive with one hand on the handlebar and the other holding Harry. Behind him, Hagrid could hear the din of footsteps becoming louder. 

Not many would praise Hagrid for his ability to think on his feet, but as the danger drew closer, an idea sparked in his head and he wasted no time in ridding himself of his bulky coat, placing it in the sidecar attached to the motorbike and hurriedly wrapping it around Harry. The final snap of a seatbelt was accompanied by the crash of a spell as it missed the party of two by inches and exploded against the lawn. 

A kick-start later and the motorbike roared to life. Hagrid didn’t chance a look back, instead he sped down streets of houses with carved pumpkins on their front yard until the road became darker, emptier, and the only thing standing between themselves and freedom was a little red bridge jumping over a rushing river. 

Hagrid wasn’t prepared to see the bridge explode before his very eyes and the bike came to a sudden, stuttered stop when a group of Death Eaters took to the road from the surrounding trees. With their dark cloaks blending into the night and their bone-white masks catching on the light from the moon, they were ghosts, harbingers of death advancing on Hagrid at a slow, deliberate pace. 

Strapped in the side-car, Harry began to fuss; little whimpers of discomfort and fear rushed out in the night. 

“Now, doncha go worryin’, lil’ Harry,” Hagrid murmured. “We’ll be okay, jus’ you see. I’ll think a somethin’.”

Hagrid did the only thing he could do. 

He started the motorbike again and careened full speed at the Death Eaters before they had a chance to react. They threw themselves to the side as Hagrid broke through their lines but did nothing else to stop his journey, content enough to watch him fall down the precipice to the cold water below. 

A click of a button later however and Hagrid and his charge were airborne, flying over the remains of the bridge and leaving a group of seething Death Eaters in their rearview mirror. 

“Ya see now, Harry? I told ya yeh didn’ have nothin’ to worry about.” 

They flew the rest of the night over empty highways and lush, green forests. Hagrid made sure they were kept out of the line of sight of muggles by flying high enough that they could be mistaken for a large bird, but he couldn’t deny their need to land any longer when Harry’s crying turned to screaming and the needle on the fuel gauge reached an alarming new low. 

He spotted a gas station (like the kind he’d seen in his old Muggle Studies book) in the distance and lowered the bike to the ground in time to turn into the entrance for the station. He parked near one of the machines with the long hoses and picked up a wailing Harry in one arm, alarmed by how tiny and fragile the baby felt against his chest. Holding his head in the palm of his hand, Harry’s little feet only reached until the joint of his wrist. 

He had stopped outright crying by now and had replaced it with wide-eyed sniffles as his eyes darted back forth across Hagrid’s face and then at his surroundings. A splash of red on his forehead caught Hagrid’s eye and he wiped a thumb across the mark, dislodging flecks of dried blood which revealed a lightning shaped scar marking his soft skin. 

“Ma! Ma—ma! Da! Da da da da…” 

Hagrid’s eyes teared up alongside Harry’s as he watched the little boy searching for his mum and dad, head turning this way and that but, at seeing no familiar faces, he began to cry once more. Hagrid gathered the baby close and heard his cries become muffled when Harry began to suck on his hand in earnest, his little body shaking with the force of his sobs. 

“It—yeh’ll be okay, Harry. Your da—” Hagrid muffled his own tears against his beard and strengthened his grip on Harry. “Yeh’ll be better in time, I promise you that. None o’us will leave you alone, again, yeh mark me words.” 

Something in his tone must’ve had some soothing effect on the baby, for he stopped crying and stuck to sucking his fist in his mouth in between wet sniffles. 

A little bell tied to the top of the glass door let out a cheerful  _ ding  _ when Hagrid pushed it open. A muggle teenage girl, no older than sixteen years old, was manning the counter and looked up from her magazine at the ring. She stiffened in her seat once she caught sight of the enormous man. 

“H—hello, sir. How, uhm, how may I help you today? Sir.” She stammered, chipped nails gripping the pages of her magazine as if her composure was stored in between the glossy pages. 

“Good mornin’,” Hagrid smiled, trying to put the girl at ease, he knew his size was something very few could get used to at first glance. “I jus’ need to get my bike over there movin’ again and I need a coupl’a things for this lil’ one here.” 

Harry chose that moment to pop his hand out of his mouth and wave it around demandingly, cooing and hiccuping at the young girl from Hagrid’s arms. Some of the tension visibly left her body as she peered closer to catch sight of the baby’s head nestled in the crook of the man’s arm. 

“Yeah, sure, of course. That your bike out there? I can fill her up while you look around for what you need. Baby stuff is on aisle five.” 

Hagrid nodded and was grateful the muggle girl didn’t leave it up to him to figure out how to work the fuel machine. He strode down the baby aisle with a red plastic basket from a pile by the cashier’s desk and carefully inspected the items on the shelves. It seemed to Hagrid that there were dozens upon dozens of options of food for babies and only a slightly smaller variety of diapers. He’d never handled either one of those things in his life, but he knew enough about babies to realize that he’d need both if he was to take care of Harry for a day. 

He chose a round, plastic container with a happy looking baby on the front claiming to love the milk inside and picked up a green packet of twenty diapers with another smiling baby. On the way back to the counter, he passed by a shelf of little packets with cereal in the form of a bar no bigger than his finger promising to keep him energized all day long and added several handfuls of different coloured wrappers to the basket. 

“Okay then, that will be 23.95. Would you like some warm water to prepare the formula? On the house for the little one, of course.” Even standing on her tiptoes, the girl couldn’t see over the top of Hagrid’s thick arms to even catch a glimpse of Harry’s face. 

“Err, I don’t—formula?” 

“Yeah, or did you bring your own bottle prepared?” She turned to him with expectant eyes, but Hagrid didn’t know what he should tell her. He’d never heard of  _ formula  _ before and he certainly didn’t have anything prepared. 

“This ainn’t my baby, see. I’m… takin’ care of him for a coupl’a good friends o’mine. Kinda surprised me, too.” 

“Oh, I see,” the girl nodded as though they were sharing in some big secret. “Well in that case, you’ll need to add a baby bottle if you don’t have anything prepared and you’ll also need baby wipes and…”

The muggle girl kept on talking as she rounded the counter with his basket in hand and disappeared behind the baby aisle. Hagrid could hear her muttering to herself from where he stood, stock-still at a gas station counter with a baby curled against his chest. The girl came back minutes later with the basket filled to the brim with things that Hagrid couldn’t even begin to tell anyone what they were for. 

“Now this is better. Here’s your bottle to feed the little one, I’ll fill it up with warm water before you go so you can give it to him right away, he looks hungry. You put the powder in the water according to the instructions and then shake it a few times to mix it up well. Here are the new diapers—the ones you chose were a bit big for him, I think—and I brought you some wipes to clean him up. This is a bib to keep his clothes clean while he eats—he’ll be needing that, believe me—and some baby powder to keep his little tushy from getting a rash.” The girl giggled at her own words and didn’t appear to notice the way Hagrid was taking in every single word she’d just said like it was gospell. “That’ll be 45.99 and if you want, we have an offer on slings so you can carry your baby around strapped to your chest and still be able to use your hands.” 

The girl ducked underneath the counter and produced a long scarf tagged with a picture of a mother with a baby strapped to her chest by a cloth which went around her back, waist and chest. Hagrid thought of the sidecar with only a frayed seatbelt keeping baby Harry from falling off as they flew over Great Britain and nodded his head. 

“That makes it 63.99, please.” She placed his purchases in a plastic bag and held out her hand expectantly. 

Hagrid dug in his many pockets, jostling an already irritable Harry, and managed to find a forgotten galleon hanging around empty candy wrappers and old string. He placed the piece of rounded gold into the girl’s hand, took his purchases in hand and waved goodbye before she could get over her shock of being paid with a coin of pure gold. 

A tap of his umbrella and the bag fit in one of Hagrid’s pockets. He placed a crying Harry back inside his sidecar and took to the road, driving only so far as to get away from the gas station with the kind girl to find a secluded spot to take care of the tiny baby wailing like a matured mandrake. 

Ten minutes into their ride, Hagrid pulled off the bike on the side of the road where a dirt trail led up to an assortment of picnic tables and benches framed by a copse of tall trees. He manoeuvred the motorbike to rest underneath the largest tree, where the long branches and thick layer of leaves would hide it from anyone scouting the area from the sky. 

“A’ight now, there there, lil’ one,” Hagrid murmured as he scooped Harry into his arms and bounced him up and down. The baby didn’t stop crying however, Harry seemed to feed off of Hagrid’s own projected emotions and continued to wail at the trees, using his thin arms to push against the large man’s face in an attempt to escape. 

“Hey, no need fer that, I got whatcha need right here, Harry. Don’t ya go turnin’ against me now.” 

Hagrid sat down on one of the benches with the baby in hand and pulled out the plastic bag, unshrinking it and setting aside the bottle of warm water and the container the muggle girl had pointed at. Unscrewing the lid one-handed proved to be impossible rather quickly so, with no better idea at hand, Hagrid squeezed the hard plastic in his fist, hoping the pressure would pop the lid open for him. 

Next thing Hagrid was aware of, he was hit with a blast of white across his face, it got in his nose, on his beard, it went so far as to cover his black hair in various shades of grey and painted his entire front a ghostly pale. Harry began sputtering in his arms and Hagrid immediately dropped the container on the table to plop the baby on its surface and turn him so they would face each other. 

Harry’s little green eyes had popped wide open. He’d brought forth his hands and arms in front of his body to stare at the curious pale powder now dusted over his clothes and skin. A delicate finger and thumb pulled at a sleeve and the formula sprang from his clothes into the air and onto Hagrid’s beard. Harry followed its trajectory until he locked eyes with Hagrid’s own brown pair. 

A sudden, gummy grin erupted across his face and Harry began to laugh. He reached forward to grab at Hagrid’s beard (would have fallen too, if the older man hadn’t been there to catch him) and curled his pudgy fingers into the wild mane, babbling a mile a minute amidst abrupt sneezing. 

“So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” asked Hagrid. “Gotta make a fool o’ meself to get yeh to laugh like that, then tha’s what I’m gonna do.” Hagrid smiled as Harry continued to talk to him in his own language and—after reading the minuscule instructions on the side of the formula can—began to scoop up whatever powder was salvageable to prepare Harry’s milk.

Harry took to the tepid meal with gusto, insisting on holding the bottle on his own with stubborn grunts and whines. As soon as the last dregs were drunk up, Harry threw the bottle aside and let out a soft burp followed by something else that Hagrid didn’t much like the sound or smell of. 

It took four tries for Hagrid to settle the diaper on Harry correctly. He didn’t know babies could move so much so fast, or how difficult it would be to gently wrestle a one-year-old’s legs to stillness before the cold breeze affected him in ways that Hagrid didn’t think any amount of baby wipes would ever remove from his poor, abused beard. 

Fed, clean and warm, Harry fell asleep in the cocoon of Hagrid’s jacket. Hagrid’s entire body immediately relaxed for a moment as the baby slept, but he didn’t allow himself too much time to let his guard down. He took out his umbrella and fired off one of the few spells he’d managed to master with the broken remains of his wand. 

“ _ Expecto Patronum. _ ” A silver bear cub sprung from the tip of the umbrella and sat on the ground awaiting Hagrid’s instructions. “Take a message ter Professor Dumbledore an’ tell ‘im I got Harry, that he did survive. A coupl’a Death Eaters tried to stop us an’ I lost ‘em on the way, but I’m not sure if they’ll be back. Harry needs a safe place to go to. Make it quick.” 

The bear cub patronus dissolved into nothingness and Hagrid was left waiting at a picnic table at eight o’clock in the morning holding a baby wanted by dark wizards. Mercifully, he didn’t have to wait too long before his patronus emerged from the trunk of a tree in a shimmer of white mist to retake its form by Hagrid’s feet. 

“ _ Bring him to Surrey, 4 Privet Drive, to his aunt’s house. He will be kept safe under his family's protection until such a time that he can rejoin the wizarding world. Be warned, news of the boy's survival has begun to spread like Fiendfyre. Take care not to be recognized. Safe travels, my friend.” _

It was nearing mid-day and Hagrid was unsure how long it would take him to drive to Surrey on a flying motorbike with a baby on board that could turn over in his sleep at any moment and possibly fall hundreds of metres to the ground. 

A glimpse of soft yellow teased him from the corner of his eye. He reached into the plastic bag and pulled out the long scarf the muggle girl had sold him, the woman and baby printed on the paper cover promising him all the answers to his problems. Although he tried to be gentle (he really did), the process of figuring out all the knots and folds which went into securing a baby to his chest was not conducive to the continued sleep of said baby in the first place. Harry woke up with a jarring start on the second turn of the yellow fabric and he made his displeasure very well known. 

“I’m sorry, lil’ fella. Only way we can get ter Surrey on time if we don’ want you fallin’ off. Nice o’ yer godfather to lend us ‘is bike, but it’s no place fer a baby, Harry.” 

The rolling drawl of Hagrid’s words soothed Harry enough that his crying petered off to sniffles. He rubbed his chubby fists against his eyes and squinted up at Hagrid in such a way that caused his nose to scrunch up between his cheeks and the older man had no trouble admitting he found it endearing. 

The wrap secured, Hagrid tested it a couple of times by jumping up and down on the spot, keeping a watchful eye on the give of the material as a giggling Harry cooed and clapped his hands in delight. Satisfied the baby would be safe, Hagrid packed up their things and mounted the motorbike, driving it onto the dirt path and rising to the clouds before they reached the highway. 

Unlike the first leg of their journey which landed them at the gas station, the second part seemed relax Harry to the point of exhaustion and then outright sleep. Hagrid had kept half an eye on the boy as he’d swished his head around both sides to look out at the clouds for the first half hour, then gradually began to lose interest in his surroundings and let his head drop softly on Hagrid’s chest. All Harry was left to see were the soft, running colours of his dreams where the faces of his mum and dad floated in and out of focus amongst the image of a black dog chasing a tabby cat to the sound of howling, gay laughter. 

“We’re ‘ere, Harry,” whispered Hagrid, more for his benefit than the dozing baby’s. 

Hagrid wasn’t able to read the name of the street from up in the sky, but he could certainly make an educated guess that the house he was looking for was on the only darkened street in the entire neighbourhood. The dim street was a black hole calling to Hagrid, urging him to come closer and get lost in the tangles of suburbia. 

The wheels skid against the pavement when the bike fell from the sky, the lone searchlight mounted on its front illuminating the bodies of Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall waiting by the sidewalk of 5 Privet Drive. 

Hagrid dismounted the bike with Harry still strapped to his chest and slowly made his way over to the waiting professors. As he was about to reach them though, he took a moment to gaze down at Harry Potter’s peaceful face for the last time in what he knew would be a long while.

“Now, I know this ain’t exactly what any o’ us had in mind for yeh—for yer mum and dad. But lemme tell yeh, we are gonna make ‘em proud, lil’ one. You’re gonna be livin’ with yer family ‘til you can join our world again, but that don’t mean yer not a part of it anymore. Everyone’ll remember what you did today for a long time to come. They’ll write yer name in the stars, they will—greatest story in the world.

“All you gotta do is remember, Harry. Yeh survived. 

“Yer the boy who lived.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
